God I miss this girl

May 17th, 2017, 8:50 PM by Goddess



Still going better than I expected

May 13th, 2017, 6:55 AM by Goddess

I’ve been looking forward to the weekend. So I could settle down for a nice winter’s blog. 

But it’s 94 degrees and the neighbors as usual kept me up half the night and the cat jolted me out of sleep early. 

Anyway, I think this text I sent a dear old friend sums it up. 

It’s like I got in my car and drove to 2012. Happy Friday!

In one week’s time, I got: evicted from my favorite office/city, put in a fishbowl, talked to about my flair, sent home (well, self-deported) for violating dress code, my period (three weeks early!), and a May calendar filled with dear friends’ exit interview and termination dates.  

Forget 2012. It’s 2008 all over again.  



Take another little piece of my heart 

May 5th, 2017, 12:02 AM by Goddess

It only took me three days to get in trouble at the new old job. Yes! Am rebel. 

It’s been a comeuppance. To say the least.  

And don’t get me started on the thing that hurt me the most. And that’s not a short list. 

Snowflake needs a safe space. Too much sensory overload. Preferably a safe space about 25 miles south.



‘And even though you’re fed up, huh, ya got to keep your head up’

May 2nd, 2017, 7:23 PM by Goddess

A few thoughts to the tune of Tupac:

1. Spending your drives praying that no one kills you, then your days hoping someone does.

2. When the only thing worse than working for X is NOT working for X.

3. Leave Britney alone!

4. All TPS report covers will be filed accordingly. 

5. Going from buying/using all the paper and cleaning products to being squeezed for a dime. 



Ripples

April 30th, 2017, 11:53 AM by Goddess

The thing about change isn’t the change itself. It’s the ripple effects.

We are undergoing a massive, disruptive change right now.

Let’s just say Felicia said “Bye.”  I saw no reason it would be a bad change. Or any at all, for that matter. Felicia had toodle-oo’d long before that.

In any event, the little things are now the big things. The being five miles from mom in case of an emergency, gone. The having a mechanic up the street so I can drop off the car and not miss a beat in my day, gone. The (albeit incompetent) Starbucks 10 paces away that I could wander to, any time of any day, poof. Flip-flops and pigtails, later gator.

For my friends, no more dropping spouses off at work. Or having dinner ready when they come home. Or hanging around late without an hour drive ahead. Or using lunch to run to the vet.

But we won’t complain. We won this round of “Survivor.” The rest, well. I just wish folks knew their true worth. Story for another time. 

The story I will tell today, however, is this. 

The restaurant across the street has Wine Wednesdays. Half-price past 7 p.m. 

 I never did it often enough, but occasionally I would meet my good friend Meiomi for two glasses of her goodness for the same $10 I’d pay for just one any other night. (And yes, I know a bottle is $20-$26 depending where you shop.)

This past Wednesday, I wandered in at 7 between crises. Ordered my glass, and another. 

The guy next to me, another singleton who snagged the other single seat between loads of couples at the bar, said wow. Do they always pour that heavy here?


I said I’m somewhat of a regular. The bartender knows me. 

What I didn’t say, was she didn’t say a word to me. She looked right at my face and instinctively filled that shit up to the brim. That, my friends, is worth a good tip. 

I’m gonna miss her. My bartender, as much as Meiomi at that bar.

As for the guy, I found I rather enjoyed his company. Lives nearby. Was on his way to an event. Wanted a quick beer and salad before he went.

Smelled good, spoke well. Worked it in right away that he’s Italian. A weakness of mine, though I never said that much.

I didn’t say much at all, really. Guys like that. Drives them crazy. Especially when they pump you for information when they can’t put it together that you were calling folks long before you had any information of your own, and you know WAY more than you’ll ever let on. You have friends they don’t know about. And never will. Make ’em squirm. Like they did you.

Anyway, short story short, I knew I was going to meet someone. Didn’t know when or where. Just knew it would happen. 

Hell, based on the fact that he wasn’t a Trump voter qualifies him as husband material. That’s how it goes here. In the Resistance? Check. Likes wine, coffee and beer? Check? Lives in may favorite town on earth? Check, check, check.

What an interesting transition this could turn out to be, to go back to spending my weekends in my town instead of weekdays.